Season of Mists
by Anastasia-G
Summary: Autumn-themed drabble. In which Derek is awkward at morning-after conversations, especially when he cares.


**Bonnie is closer to Derek's age in this btw. I just can't with ppl in their twenties dating high schoolers.**

* * *

"Derek? What's up?"

Bonnie blinked up at him, lowering the arm shielding her face from the sudden soaking rain. An awkward heaviness settled in his throat. He felt rather than saw the slight tension in her shoulders, a self-defensiveness contrasting sharply with the casual grace and smiles he remembered from the other night.

She chewed her lip, "Come upstairs, we're both getting soaked."

* * *

_"Come on up, we could both use a drink."_

_Leaning against his passenger seat, the lovely angle of her neck tilted like an invitation and her spicy sweet perfume teasing his senses, she was unreasonably alluring._

_He couldn't remember temptation unmixed with the tang of betrayal metallic like blood. Derek almost said no, but a selfish hunger gnawed him and so he followed her small, feminine figure up the stairs and failed at ignoring the way those jeans wrapped her up like candy._

* * *

Bonnie fumbled with the lock for moment before the key clicked. Her apartment was warm and smelled like pumpkin and sugar, causing a sharp sudden flare of memory: the crunch of leaves underfoot and the warm sweet scents of his mother's kitchen and Laura whining about how she hated rolling pie-crust and _Why isn't Derek helping?_

"Ugh," Bonnie divested herself of jacket and boots, avoiding his eyes "Just a sec, I'm gonna change out of the wetsuit."

Derek padded over to the kitchen while she disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't know why exactly he was here, just that they needed to talk after what happened. He owed Bonnie that much after all her help in uncovering the kanima nest.

Hell, he'd owe it to her even without the kanima incident. There weren't many people who made him pause for second look anymore, but the small, spirited witch with her fierce heart on her sleeve was one of them. He couldn't remember how, but he realized now that respect had melded into protectiveness.

* * *

_"To slimy reptiles dying slimy deaths," she clinked her glass against his, green eyes dancing. They'd all repaired to Scott's house after the kanimas were dealt with, and he'd watched her bubbling with laughter and surrounded by loving people like a candle-flame amidst moths. This was her element, the giving and receiving, the fighting together and camaraderie. Those words had lost their lustre for him long ago, but he watched the light in Bonnie's smile and thought maybe some people lost their illusions so others could have them._

_"Derek are you listening?" her voice drew him back to the small kitchen and the smell of oranges in her hair._

_"Sorry," he mumbled, setting his glass down, "Been a long night."_

_"If you're trying to get me drunk, it won't work," he raised an eyebrow as she refilled his glass._

_Bonnie giggled, her face already warm and glowing from the wine and loose curls tumbled in enticing disarray, "I'm trying to hang out with you, like normal people," her voice softened a bit, "We're still semi-normal, at least."_

* * *

When she emerged from the bathroom she was fresh-faced and barefoot in a small t-shirt and_ those_jeans again.

Derek tried not to recall the feel of buttons beneath his thumb, the warm snug silk of her panties and how she'd bucked into his touch. His fingers curled.

Bonnie started the kettle, still avoiding his gaze, "So what's up?"

He watched her bustle around, sorting through her tins of tea, completely unruffled by his presence. A tray of fresh pumpkin muffins rested by her stove, complete with cinnamon dusting the cream frosting. She'd probably share them with Scott and Boyd and the others, maybe laugh about the sourwolf.  
It was just like the night at Scott's house; he felt oddly outside of things, someone holding a snow-globe and peering into a perfect, self-contained world.

"Nothing," he said quietly, "See you around."

"I wasn't expecting anything, you know."

Derek turned back around. She crossed her slender arms, taking a breath "I didn't wanna set myself up to want something I can't have."

Of course she'd think he was some careless ass who didn't give a fuck about anything. It was the image he'd built for himself with stone and bloody fingernails. The only place he felt safe after Laura died.

* * *

_"Tell me about Laura," she said softly. They sat on the couch, empty glasses and pistachio shells strewn across the coffee table. Bonnie lay all relaxed and facing him, her toes almost touching his leg._

_Not for the first time, Derek found himself wishing werewolves could feel the effects of alcohol like everyone else. God he'd love to blunt the edges of memory with some beer, maybe even let himself feel grief without its claws drawing blood._

_She watched him for a moment, all tousled hair and liquid eyes, "My Grams was everything. She was brave and kind, but she never let her feelings get in the way of doing her duty. And she still had time to make me feel loved," her voice snagged ever so slightly on the last word._

_He heard his own voice as if from a distance, "Laura...she was a better alpha, a better leader than I could ever be."_

_Bonnie's smile was sad and sweet, "I wish I could be more like Grams." The candlelight caressed her in the most seductive shadows, rumpled and fragrant and oh-so-touchable as she was._

_"I think you are."_

* * *

"What do you want?"

She couldn't want him, not in that way. She needed someone hopeful and idealistic as she was, like Scott.

But standing there in her autumn spiced kitchen, with her bare feet and loose wet hair, she made him ache with a strange hollow longing.

Bonnie glanced at the floor, "I'm not sure what I want, Derek...Maybe I'm just afraid to want it."

She swept her hair aside while speaking, unconsciously revealing the traces on her neck where his mouth had been. Her skin was soft all over but was especially so right there, he remembered. She made the most delicious little sounds when his teeth and tongue lingered.

He wondered where else he'd left marks on her and it drove him to distraction. His jeans were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight and her scent was getting under his skin again.

"I didn't know you were afraid of anything."

* * *

_The air between them was suddenly poised on something. Bonnie worried her lower lip with her teeth, drawing his gaze there. Derek wanted so badly to touch her, his hands were developing a death grip on his knees._

_"I should go."_

_She swung her legs off the couch and stood the same time as he did. The sudden closeness was unexpected. He couldn't remember how exactly it happened but he was kissing her and she was kissing him back her small hands tangled in his hair and his name was a soft whimper on her delectable lips. Her skin was warm beneath his hands and her mouth tasted of wine and salt and something else, some deeper sweeter flavor he wanted branded on his tongue. She shivered when his hands rested just beneath her bra, thumbing the edge of lace. _

_"I should go," he repeated between their lips, though his hands lingered, making longing circles on the small of her back._

_"Yea, umm, you should-," her words were swallowed in another kiss and he cupped her firm little ass pulling her flush against his erection and when she moaned into his mouth he was done._

_Halfway to her bedroom he pinned her to the wall, and she giggled when her t-shirt caught between her head and shoulder. Derek pulled it off with a swift tug and slid his hands between her unbuttoned jeans, stroking. The lace cupping her breasts rubbed his chest excitingly as she moved up and down against his hand, hot and slick and trembling. When he slid a finger inside her she moaned, "Fuck," and the raw expletive on her luscious sweet mouth almost finished him there and then._

* * *

Bonnie pushed off the counter with a sigh, "Witches are practical, and being practical means knowing when to be afraid."

Derek lifted her chin gently, "I'm going to protect you no matter what. You won't always like how I do it, but I'll make sure you're safe."

"I don't need protection, Derek. I need...friends. People I can trust."

He pushed her damp hair behind her ear, tracing the soft shell, sensing her swallow as her heart picked up speed, "You can trust me. I just don't know if I can be a friend."

"No?" her eyes dropped to his lips before darting up again. He couldn't resist. Her lips were lush as plums, making his own linger longer than he planned. Derek sucked her tongue into his mouth and his head grew dazed from her taste. A vague ringing buzzed his ears and it took a moment for him to realize what it was.

"The water's done," Bonnie murmured, not moving. The kettle was whistling shrilly now, it almost hurt his preternatural hearing.

He released her slowly and she turned the stove off. "Do you want some hot chocolate?"

Derek stood behind her and rested his fingers on her hip. The smell of rain lingered in her damp hair. He was afraid, so very afraid it would all shatter into pieces and leave only shards under his skin. The light kiss he brushed where her shoulder curved into neck made her shiver.

Bonnie set out two cups.

* * *

**This was super hard to assemble. Hit me with your thoughts dear readers xoxox.**


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